


and there's a storm you're starting

by armadilo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asshole Liam Payne, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, I'm Sorry, Implied Liam Payne/Harry Styles, M/M, No Smut, Pining, Slow Burn, University Student Harry, University Student Louis, i love liam but he's kind of a douchebag here oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadilo/pseuds/armadilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A university AU where Liam has a lot of loud sex, Niall is the best friend that everyone deserves, Zayn and Gigi are ridiculously in love, Harry is his usual adorably dorky self, and Louis just wants to get some sleep for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and there's a storm you're starting

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first fic I've posted on here and I'm kind of nervous, but I really hope you like it!! I changed the prompt a tiny bit so that Liam is the next-door neighbour rather than the roommate as you mentioned in your first prompt (also sorry for making him such a douchebag, I feel mean but it was the right thing to do), but I hope it still fits what you hoped for/expected :) Also, sorry about the lack of smut, I hope it's not an issue but I realised I didn't feel comfortable writing it. Anyway, enjoy :)
> 
> okay so now that the authors have been revealed feel free to follow me on my [tumblr](http://arsetattoo.tumblr.com) if you enjoyed!!

“Mm, yeah, just like that, oh god..”

Louis presses the pillow tighter against his ears, shifting as far away from the offending noise as his tiny single bed will let him. Half his body is practically hanging off the side, his knuckles grazing against the carpet with each breath. Louis huffs loudly through his nose, staring through the blackness of his dorm room at nothing in particular, partly hoping that the gods will grant him temporary deafness for the night, or at least a really good pair of headphones. Damn his next-door roommate, damn the paper-thin walls, and damn whoever the roommate's chosen to shag on this night in particular. When the tell-tall noise of a headboard knocking against plaster starts up again, followed by an exceptionally loud moan ringing through, Louis makes a mental note to blackmail Niall into helping him move his bed to the opposite side of the room, or, well, maybe just to drop out of uni altogether. 

“It's one in the morning, you heathens!”

Louis can't bear it any longer, but his shout is practically drowned out by even more moaning. He makes one last attempt at banging against the wall (the headboard knocks back as a reply, probably telling him to fuck off in Morse code or something) and then, still clasping the pillow around his head, he crawls off his bed to the other side of the room. He makes a nest for himself out of the tangle of blankets he's wrapped in, the noise only slightly diminished by the short distance. Still, at least it's some relief, for both his ears and his soul. 

“I'm billing you for my chiropractor after this”, Louis mutters, mostly to himself, as he tries to drift off to sleep once more. He's curled up in a ball like a hedgehog, knees drawn up tight to his chest, which is exactly how Niall finds him the next morning.

“Tommo!”

Louis doesn't understand why there's a cold finger prodding against his side, when only minutes ago he was quite content with dreaming about punching a certain problematic, loud-sex having neighbour in the dick. He grumbles and tries to move over away from whoever's interrupting him, but he's stopped by two even colder hands clasping his shoulders.

“Tommo, come on, we're gonna be late”, says the voice again. 

Louis pries one eye open, hoping that maybe the person is an angel come to rescue him from the hell-hole he's currently stuck in. Unfortunately, he knows by the Irish accent that it's only Niall, come to drag him to the eight-am lecture which almost makes Fridays not worth living for. 

Louis' eyes fall shut again of their own accord. He doesn't think he can sit up from his blanket nest, let alone sit through a two hour long lecture on the various dramatic techniques he should be well acquainted with if he ever wants to make it in the industry. He can already feel the sleep-deprivation induced headache coming on.

“Nope, you are not doing this to me again, Tommo. If you don't get your arse out of bed right this second I'm never letting you copy my notes again, I swear..”, says Niall, wrapping his arms round Louis' middle and forcibly dragging him up until he's in a vaguely upright position. He sways on the spot for a second or two, fighting against the headrush. Niall loosens his grip slightly once it looks like Louis won't just give up and sink back to the floor as soon as he's given the chance, and moves so that he's got one arm draped around Louis' waist instead. 

“Do I even want to know why you were on the floor rather than, you know, in bed? Like a regular person?”, Niall says as he leads a rather begrudging Louis through the door. He's barely giving Louis time to check his dishevelled fringe in the mirror, edging more towards the wrong end of 'I haven't brushed my hair in three days please send help' rather than 'artfully messy'. 

“It's that bloody sex-addict neighbour again”, Louis says, wincing as he catches sight of his reflection in the windows of the dorm building. The late February breeze, taking away from what little warmth the sun has to offer so early in the morning, doesn't exactly help with Louis' whole hair situation. 

“He's still doing that?”

“Honestly, I don't even know his name and yet I know too much about him already. Way, way too much”, Louis shudders.

“So is it, like, a noisy couple, or does he just make a habit of bringing random people back to his place on weeknights?”

“I don't think I've seen the same person leave his room more than twice, actually.”

“You have to admit, that's pretty impressive”

Louis shoots Niall a deathly look.

“I'd be a bit more impressed if he wasn't messing with my sleeping pattern so bad”, he says.

“Maybe you need to, you know, get out there a bit more”, Niall says as they walk up the stairs to their lecture hall, pushing past the various students looking as exhausted as Louis feels. “Have some fun, find your lobster, that kind of thing”

“Jesus, Nialler, you sound like my mother”, Louis says, and the two of them sit down towards the back of the fairly small hall, half-empty in typical fashion for a wintertime Friday morning. 

“What, your mother wants you to go out and shag random people?”

“No, the whole 'lobster' part, you twat. It's like she expects me to be settled down with two kids and a mortgage by the end of this year, but it's not my fault all the guys here are complete and utter dicks”, Louis lowers his voice as the professor begins to talk.

“Oh, you poor baby, you”, Niall says, and Louis kicks him under the seat. 

Then, he rummages through his backpack to find his doodle-filled notebook and chewed-up pen, and tries to pay attention to the words on the projected slideshow in front of him, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. It's not that the lecture is boring, per say, it's just that he'd be able to enjoy it a lot more if his brain didn't currently feel like it was trying to hammer its way out of his skull. He's settled into a comfortable routine of sorts, the methodical pen scratching against paper calming his thoughts somewhat, when the lecture theatre door swings open and hits the side of the wall with a bang. Louis' head snaps up, and he watches a tall guy in ripped jeans, white tee-shirt and a bed-head of long messy curls and baby hairs to rival his own pant slightly at the top of the stairs, before slinking down into the seat next to Louis.

“You're twenty minutes late, Mr Styles”, comes the professor's nasal voice, “That's a new record.”

The guy grimaces down, looking sheepish. The professor presses her hands to her temples and sighs loudly through her nose before continuing on about mid-twentieth century American theatre. Louis leans forward in his seat, chin propped up against the arm he's rested on the wooden table in front of him. His headache is slightly muted now, and he tries to settle back into his pre-disruption reverie, but he can't quite focus with the guy rummaging through his bag and his pockets inches away from him. Then, he feels a finger prod at his shoulder. Louis jolts in his seat, elbow slipping on the table with the sudden movement. He turns to his left, and finds apologetic green eyes staring back at him. 

“Sorry, I didn't want to, uh-”, the guy's voice comes out low and gravelly, and he clears his throat before moving his hand to fiddle with the ends of his hair, almost subconsciously. Louis raises his eyebrows, and the guy tries again.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a pen? I, uh, overslept and managed to leave all my stuff behind, so..”, he trails off and looks at Louis expectantly. 

Louis nods and reaches into his backpack, handing over a pen emblazoned with the logo of a company he's never even heard of before. The guy's mouth quirks into a smile, and if it takes Louis just a second too long to draw his eyes away from the artfully curved cupids bow and deliciously pink lips, well, it's not like anyone's counting. His gaze drifts to the guy's cheeks, still flushed from the exertion of his run to the lecture, and finally then finally up to his eyes, reflecting the artificial light of the hall so that they sparkle in the most cliché way possible. Louis tells himself to focus. He gives the guy a gentle smile and turns back to his notebook, but is stopped by the same hand once again, landing on his shoulder and practically enveloping it with its size. 

“Sorry, I-could I borrow some paper, too?”, the guy says, voice still tired but slightly less hoarse.  
Louis wonders if there's some another loud-sex-having neighbour on campus who he should avoid at all costs.

“What, borrow? That means you have to give it back, though”, Louis teases, and tries to ignore the feeling that shifts in his chest when the guy giggles, hand flying up to cover his mouth. Louis also tries to pretend that he's not disappointed at the loss of warmth from the hand on his shoulder. 

He tears a piece of lined paper from his notebook, sliding it over, and the rest of the lecture passes in silence. Louis gradually becomes more and more aware of the guy's movements next to him, and towards the end of the lecture he's all but given up on writing anything down and instead focuses on the body heat, soft breaths, and smell of lavender and clean laundry coming from the seat on his left. He hopes Niall will actually let him copy off his notes and not follow through with his threat of cutting him off.

The lecture ends with the professor assigning them several texts to read and analyse, essentially confining Louis to his room for the entire weekend if he wants to get everything done by the far-too-early Tuesday due date. 

“That's the third bloody lecture in a row when she's given us less than a week to do a shitload of work”, Niall grumbles as they start to pack up their things. Louis makes a non-committal sound of agreement as he watches the guy on his left get out of his seat and make his way down the stairs towards the professor, who appears to be signalling for him to go speak to her. The lavender smell spikes up again with the increased movement, and Louis wonders whether it's body wash, shampoo, or cologne. Not that he'd go and buy himself the same one, of course, but he just wants to know. For reference, or something. 

“Tommo, you coming?”, Niall says, already standing up and ready to leave, backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry”, Louis says, hurriedly shoving the rest of his things in his bag. He steals one last glance at the conversation taking place at the front of the lecture hall, the professor waving her hands round animatedly as she speaks, almost hitting the guy in the arm once or twice with her flailing. Louis can't see his face, but he's sure that his expression is the same one of sheepish embarrassment he was sporting as he ran into the room. Louis wants to stay behind and get the guy's name, at least, or maybe even his number (ideally he'd like to ask the guy to bend him over his kitchen table at the earliest possible opportunity, but sadly, he can't have everything that he wants), but he's not quite up to having Niall tease him for the rest of the day. With one last look around the hall, Louis stands up and follows his friend outside with a sigh.

The weather, not exactly pleasant in the morning, has managed to get even worse, rain beating down on the concrete and wind bowing the trees planted around the half-deserted campus. They stand in the doorway for a bit, watching a handful of students scuttle to safety like ants, before Niall remembers,

“Oh, shit, I almost forgot, I've got that seminar in a couple minutes”, and he heads back deeper inside the building.

“I'll see you later, yeah?”, he shouts at Louis before turning round a corner, leaving him to brave the rain alone. If it continues like this, he won't even be able to go outside to study, and he really will be holed up either in his room or the library for two days straight. Uni sounded a lot more fun before it actually started, Louis thinks begrudgingly as he wraps his arms around himself and pushes through the door. 

He's only two minutes in to his fifteen minute walk back to his dorm and the rain has already drenched him thoroughly, bits of fringe plastered to his forehead and cold water dripping down the bridge of his nose. The wind bites at every bit of exposed flesh and he draws in tighter on himself, making sweater paws with his jumper to stop the frostbitten feeling in his fingers.

“Hey, wait up!”, Louis thinks he can hear someone calling, but it's too cold outside for him to care and he speeds up his walk without so much as a glance behind him.

He hears splashing noises getting louder and louder behind him, and he almost jumps out of his skin when he starts to hear panting. He turns suddenly on his heel, completely submerging his shoe in a nearby puddle in the process. He's ready to fight whoever has come up behind him (or, if he's being truthful, just ready to give them his wallet and walk away so that he doesn't have to spend a second longer than he has to outside).

“Sorry, you just- here's your pen”, the person says, and Louis finds himself looking at green for the second time that morning. The guy stands in front of Louis, seemingly unfazed by the rain despite his now see-through tee shirt and flattened curls, reaching well past his shoulders with the weight of the water. He's got one hand stretched out, clasping the pen. Louis thinks he can spot what looks like a cross tattoo near his thumb, but he doesn't let himself stare for too long this time, moving his eyes from the guy's hand back to his eyes, and to his outstretched hand again.

“You couldn't do this inside?”, he says.

“You left before I could give it back to you, and I felt bad”, the guy retorts, and Louis feels that same shifting feeling in his chest at his puppy-dog expression. He gets a sudden urge to take off his jumper and swaddle the guy in it like a baby when he spots the goosebumps on his bare arms.

“The pen's not an emergency, Jesus”, Louis says instead, pushing all urges of comfort away. “You could've given it back at the next lecture, or something”  
The guy's puppy-dog look gets even worse as he sticks his bottom lip out in indignation.

“Yeah, but I might have forgotten by then, and- look can you just take the pen so we don't freeze out here, please?”, he says as he starts shivering. Louis continues staring at him for a second, slightly bemused, before taking back his pen, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the turquoise ring on the guy's hand.

“Uh, thanks. I'll see you around”, he says and starts to walk away. He doesn't want to get his hopes up, poor guy's probably just sleep deprived and overly friendly with everyone.

“So, can I get your name at least, now that you have your pen back?”, the guy says, and Louis realises that he's walking next to him, easily matching Louis' pace with his ridiculously long legs.

“Wow, are you stalking me?”, Louis says, but his tone is far from annoyed. Flirty, even.

“Don't flatter yourself, I'm walking this way too. Anyway, I'm Harry”, he retorts.

“Well, I'm relieved to hear that, Harry. I'm Louis”, he says.

“Hi, Louis. You French, then?”

“What, did my incredibly French accent give me away? Nah, I'm from Doncaster, born and bred”

“Ah, I'm from Holmes Chapel, myself, not that far from you, actually. What are you studying?”

“Drama, going to be a teacher, hopefully. How about you?”

“Joint honours English and Theatre studies”

“Well, aren't you the academic type”, Louis laughs, already struggling to keep up with Harry's increasingly faster pace and dodging puddles with what feels like every other step.

“Hey, slow down, not all of us are blessed with bloody giraffe legs”, he says as Harry starts practically speeding ahead. He can feel his headache slowly making a return, and praises whoever scheduled his timetable for at least giving him the rest of his Fridays off, even though he does still resent them for the unnecessarily early lecture he has to drag himself to every week. 

Instead of slowing down, Harry twists round and gives Louis a lopsided grin.

“Guess you're just going to have to run, then!”, he says, and then he's off again.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me”, Louis grits his teeth before breaking into a sprint, water pouring into his trainers and socks. He feels ready to pass out as he finally makes it to the covered doorway of his dorm building, and he's possibly even thankful for the rain since Harry won't be able to tell just how sweaty he actually is from a five minute run. He makes a mental note to do more exercise. Not that he actually will, but maybe it's the thought that counts. 

“Nice of you and your tiny legs to finally join me”, Harry says while pushing at the door, holding it open so that Louis has to duck beneath his arm.

“See, now I feel like you're just being mean.”, they walk up the stairs, dripping rainwater onto the carpet. Louis wonders whether his daily walk up to the third floor counts as enough exercise. His elbow brushes against Harry's in the narrow corridor, and he jumps a little at the unexpected contact.

“You know, are you sure you aren't stalking me? Because I've been here for half a year and I think I'd remember if you if you lived on my floor”, he says when he finally reaches his door.

“Oh, I don't, um, live here”, Harry says, shoving a hand into his pocket and bringing out his phone.

“Ah, I knew it!”

“No, I mean, I'm sort of-seeing Liam at the moment, I'm meeting him here in a bit..”

Louis looks down at Harry, already sitting down with his back pressed against this Liam person's door. The same door that belongs to the extremely loud-sex-having neighbour that's been the bane of Louis' problems ever since he started uni. That one.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me”, Louis says, the key that he's been fumbling with with his numb fingers completely forgotten. “Harry, please tell me you didn't sleep round his last night”

“Not that it's any of your business, but as a matter of fact I did, why?”, Harry blushes, tone defensive.

“Well, I'd say it pretty much is my business since I had to listen to the two of you shagging the whole night”, Louis says.

Harry's blush deepens and his hands fly up to his hair, eyes wide. 

“Oh my god”, he clears his throat, “I don't really know what to, uh, say, I'm-”

“Hey, babe, you alright?”

The voice comes from down the hallway, and both guys snap their heads round to see who it's coming from. Louis recognises him immediately, the close-cropped dark brown hair, scruffy chin and eagle hand tattoo a tell-tale giveaway of the offending neighbour, even though Louis' only seen him a couple of times so far.

Harry springs to his feet, kissing Liam briefly as the other guy slots his arm around Harry's waist and pulls him closer.

“You must be Liam. I'm Louis”, Louis greets, fighting the urge to dismiss the pleasantries and go straight for Liam's balls so that he won't have to hear his orgasm sounds ever again.

“Yeah, I'm Liam, nice to meet you. We haven't really gotten to know each other yet, have we? Shame”, he smiles.

“Oh, I know more than you'd think, trust me”, Louis says, almost to himself.

“Right”, Liam's brows furrow before he turns back to a bewildered-looking Harry. “You ready to go inside, babe?”

“I'll be in in a minute, okay?”, he says, barely breaking eye contact with Louis.

“Right, okay. Sure”, Liam repeats, still looking slightly confused, but he goes inside the room without questioning them any further.

“Look, please don't tell him about the whole-sex thing”, Harry says as soon as Liam closes the door, moving closer to Louis so that Liam doesn't overhear.

“What, you mean the whole me-knowing-exactly-what-you-sound-like-when-you're-getting-your-dick-sucked thing?”

“Louis!”, Harry hisses. “I've only just started seeing him and I can't mess things up, please. I'll try to keep it down, I promise, just please don't say anything”

“See, it's not just you, though. He's been doing this practically since the start of the year and I'm going crazy”, Louis whispers back.

“Louiiisss”, Harry whines, and Louis can't help but imagine what he'd sound like whining Louis' name pinned beneath him rather than that Liam guy. He takes a deep breath.

“Would bribing you with a coffee work?”, Harry tries again when Louis doesn't respond fast enough. “Listen, I'll give you my number and buy you a coffee sometime as an apology, alright?”

“Fine. Fine! I won't say anything. Fine”, Louis finally says, caving in to the return of the desperate puppy-dog eyes, the promise of free caffeine, and the prospect of getting a cute (albeit taken) guy's number.

He hands his phone over to Harry and watches the taller guy type the digits in, wondering how he can possibly type anything accurately with those huge fingers of his. It gives him a chance to admire Harry's rings for slightly longer, at least; the turquoise ring is accompanied by a thick silver band engraved with some kind of pattern on his index finger, a golden signet ring and another, slightly thinner silver one on the other hand.

“Right, well I'll call you, then”, Harry smiles when Louis' own number is saved in his phone too, and then disappears into Liam's room with a wave.

Louis stays rooted to the spot for a few seconds after Harry's gone, not quite sure how to process everything that just happened. He decides to sit at the top of the stairs, feet dangling over the edge as he dials Zayn's number, too aware of the thinness of the walls to have the conversation in his room. Usually he'd call Niall for relationship advice (if whatever just happened with Harry even qualifies as a relationship problem) , but he's in his seminar. Meanwhile Zayn is either painting in one of the university's studios, in which case he'll put Louis on speakerphone and continue drawing whatever nude model they've hired for the class that week, or he's still asleep, in which case he'll yell at Louis for waking him up and then listen to him bitch and moan about his problems anyway. Zayn picks up on the third ring, and the hoarseness of his voice tells Louis that the latter is probably the case. It's just as well, he doesn't really feel like having all his issues broadcast to ten other art students and a nude model anyway.

“Louis, why do you always call me at such ungodly hours? One day I'll block your number and finally be at peace, honestly”

“Well good morning, sunshine. Love you too”, Louis chuckles at the empty threat, and then launches into a rundown of his morning.

“He's just so pretty, Zayn, I want to cry”, Louis says when he finally finishes the account of the events of the past two and a half hours.

“Hm, sounds like a tough one”, Zayn says, but he sounds absent-minded.

“Zayn, did you even listen to me?”, Louis demands.

“Yeah, yeah, cute guy, loud-sex neighbour, you crying, I got all of it- hang on a second-”, Louis pulls the receiver away from his ear and makes a disgusted face when he hears what sounds like kissing noises coming down the line.

“Zayn, you've got to be kidding me”, he says when it sounds like it's just about safe to bring the phone back to his ear.

“Sorry, it's just-I met this girl last night. Gigi. She's a model. She's wonderful”, Zayn says, and Louis can picture see him staring wistfully after whatever girl he's brought back to his room this time. He hears someone giggle in the background and rolls his eyes.

“Well, I can see that you're going to be a lot of use today”

“Look, I say wait for him to take you out for that coffee, and see what happens from there. Don't stress about it, whatever's meant to happen will happen, Lou. You can't change that”

To Louis' horror, the kissing noises start up again, and he doubts Zayn even notices him hanging up the phone.

“Well, that helped a lot”, he mutters to himself. For a best friend, Zayn can be a bit useless with advice sometimes. He's barely ever single, always going from one girl or guy to the other, so he doesn't really understand Louis' struggles. That's the advantage of having a perfect fucking symmetrical face, Louis thinks, but he can't stay bitter at Zayn for too long, he really does love him too much. 

When he makes it to his room after what feels like one of the longest mornings of his life, Louis finally takes off his soaked-through top and jeans, hanging them over the crappy heater in the corner of his room, hoping that they'll be dry by the end of the weekend but simultaneously manage to not catch fire. He slips on his favourite Adidas hoodie- he got it as a Christmas present from his mum a couple years back and has worn it so much since that there's little holes worn into the elbows of the sleeves. Next are his grey trackies, and the thickest socks he can find, which just so happen to be a pair of fuzzy purple ones knitted by his nan. His hood up, he buries himself beneath the duvet and several layers of blankets piled on his bed, and is on course to sleeping happily through the rest of the day when the horrifyingly familiar creaking-bed noise makes him sit straight up.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me”

For a second, Louis hopes that he's just having a nightmare, but as if right on cue, low, throaty moans start sounding through his wall.

“Nope, this is not happening. Not again”, Louis fumes in disbelief. It's like the two of them can't control themselves. He reaches underneath his pillow for his phone, pressing his thumb down to unlock it, and presses the call button on Harry's contact name without a second thought. He almost laughs when he hears Harry's phone ringing in the other room. Louis isn't sure whether he should feel creepy at being able to hear everything in real time but, well, it's not like he's got much of a choice.

“Who is that, babe?”, Liam's voice is muffled through the wall but his breathlessness is still evident. 

“Uh, just a, a friend, sorry, I have to take this”, comes Harry's reply, and then his voice is far clearer as he picks up Louis' phone call.

“Hey, you alright?”, Harry tries and fails to sound unbothered but Louis can practically see his blush radiating through the cream-coloured wall that separates them.

“You know that thing we talked about earlier?”, Louis starts, “Would you mind, you know, not doing it? Like you promised? Or am I going to have to ask your..friend, personally?”

“Oh my god, I'll, uh, do that, don't worry about it. Or stop doing it, rather. Um..”, Harry sounds confused even through the phone.

“Just cut it out and we won't have a problem”, Louis says and hangs up without waiting for Harry's reply. 

He falls asleep just moments after hearing Harry say that the mood's kind of gone now and can they maybe just cuddle, chuckling at Liam's obviously unhappy but nevertheless compliant reply. He wakes up disorientated early on the Saturday morning with one blonde and one pink-haired guy perched on the end of his bed.

“I really need to take that spare key away from you”, Louis glares at Niall once he's over his minor heart attack of finding two people in his room the second he's woken up.

“Anyway, what's gotten into you? Zayn, you're never awake this early on a Saturday, are you okay?”, Louis asks in mock-horror.

“Gigi took me out for breakfast before her shoot”, Zayn replies dreamily, and Louis' eyes roll back into his head.

“Of fucking course. Well, if this girl can get you out of bed before-”, Louis checks the time on his phone, “-eight fifty two on a Saturday morning, she must truly be something”

“Oh, she really is”, Zayn says, the same dreamy look still on his face, and Niall smacks him gently round the head.

“He's known her all of three bloody days and he's already ready to propose”, Niall says, and Zayn pouts at him.

“Niall, I told you, we're soulmates, you have to understand that someone like this only comes around once in-”

“Anyway”, Niall cuts him off, “Once she ditched him to go do whatever model duties she's got, he turned up on my doorstep asking me if we can please go find Louis and drag him outside because the weather's actually calmed down for once, so. Here we are”

“I mean, you have a point, I guess”, Louis says as he looks outside his window. It's the calm after the storm outside, a near cloudless sky hanging over the throng of students making their way around the campus or setting up picnic blankets on the lawn.

It takes Niall and Zayn little to convince Louis to join them outside, and soon, all three of them are stretched out on a big blanket with textbooks and bits of paper strewn around. Zayn gets up and unzips the black portfolio that he carries practically everywhere with him. He sets up his easel to the left of Niall and Louis so that he has a better view of the old brick library in front of them. Louis watches him take out the canvas that he's brought with him and secure it onto the frame of the easel, fascinated by the process. He then watches Zayn squeeze out bits of oil paint from the various assortment of tubes onto his wooden palette- he won't work with plastic, apparently he wants the more authentic feeling of working with wood 'like the old masters' (or 'like the true hipster he is at heart' if you ask Louis')- and then finally draws his focus back to the books in front of him. He decides to make a start on the texts that the professor set yesterday, and makes it halfway through “A Glass Menagerie” by Williams before he starts itching for a break.

“Lads, I'm just gonna go stretch my legs a bit, alright?”, he says. Niall asking Louis to buy him a sandwich from the canteen if he's going that way, but Zayn is too enraptured in his art to do anything more than hum in reply. He's already made good progress, Louis notices as he peers over his shoulder; he's already painted half of the building with textured brick, and is currently working on covering it in an abstract tangle of brightly coloured flowers and vines, very unlike the dull brown of the original that stands in front of him. 

Louis decides he'll get Niall's sandwich on the way back, and instead walks away from the crowded area into the more densely-wooded part of the campus lawn. He's got his headphones plugged in, blasting Fall Out Boy (he never quite got out of his emo phase), and doesn't notice the suede ankle boot sticking out from behind one of the trees.

“Jesus, sorry!”, he yelps as he almost trips over the person's leg, pulling the headphones from his ears in shock.

“God, I'm such an idiot, I didn't see you-Harry!”, Louis immediately recognises the mop of brunette curls as he rounds the corner of the tree.

Harry's got his headphones in, too, the white cord tangled through his hair almost like an accessory, but takes both of them out when he spots Louis' face in front of him. Louis doesn't want to give himself false hope, but he swears he can see Harry's face light up just a tiny bit when he sees him. That brightness is soon replaced with sheepishness, however, when Louis sees the exact moment Harry remembers the events of the previous day.

“Louis, hey!”, he starts, and Louis decides that he'll spare him the embarrassment of bringing up the much-needed phone call from yesterday. Maybe it's the sunshine, or maybe it's the fact that Harry looks ridiculously good in white jeans and a yellow and orange Hawaiian shirt that's put him in a good mood, but he suddenly wants to be nice. Just this once. 

“Hey, what are you doing here, all alone?”, Louis asks as he sinks down next to Harry, leaning his back against the tree. Harry smiles at him and puts down the book he's reading. Louis can't quite make out the title from the way that Harry's hands are resting on top of it, but he's pretty sure it's something by Jane Austen from the bits of the cover that he can see.

“I was meant to meet Liam here half an hour ago, but-”, Harry shrugs his shoulders, “He's still not here, so I'm just waiting.”

Louis' not sure what to make of the sudden skip that his heart does at Harry's words, and chooses to dismiss it like all the weird feelings he's been getting lately. 

“Ah, I'm sure he's just forgotten, or he's busy, or something”, he says instead.

“Yeah, that's probably it. I just- wish he'd texted, or something, is all”, Harry says, and even the vaguely hurt expression on his face makes Louis want to fight Liam more than the loud-sex-having ever did.

“You know, me and my friends are actually sitting just round the corner, if you wanted to join us? Liam would still be able to find you, but you wouldn't have to be here by yourself, if you want?”, Louis says on impulse. Harry looks like he's considering the offer.

“Are you sure they wouldn't mind, though? I'm alright being here, I don't want to intrude, or anything”, Harry adds hastily.

“Harry, I wouldn't offer something if I didn't mean it, would I?”, Louis says, and it's like he's more and more desperate for Harry to join him, Niall, and Zayn with each passing second. “Anyway, Niall was the blonde Irish kid in Friday's lecture so you basically know him already, and Zayn's lovely. Come on”

Louis begins to stand up, brushing his black skinnies off, and waits for Harry to follow suit.

“Are you really sure?”, he still looks uncertain.

“Harold, don't make me drag you there, come on”, Louis says and offers his hand out. He almost doesn't let go once he's pulled Harry up, and has to remind himself that the kid's got a boyfriend before he starts getting unnecessarily clingy. Still, the feeling of Harry's skin on his own lingers in his mind during their short walk over to Niall and Zayn. Harry smells like apples today, too, and Louis wonders how many different types of shampoos or body washes he actually owns.

“Hey lads, look who I managed to find”, he says as they make their way back towards the picnic blanket. 

Niall and Zayn are both sitting down. Zayn's unfinished painting is momentarily abandoned as he engages Niall in conversation, probably about some long-dead artist that Niall's never even heard of. Nevertheless, he seems to be listening to Zayn eagerly, hanging on to his every word. At the sound of Louis' voice, however, both of their heads snap up. The smirk beginning to grow on Niall's face as he watches Louis and Harry sit down tells Louis all he needs to know; clearly, Niall is very much aware of the miniature breakdown Louis had over the phone to Zayn the day before. So much for privacy.

“This is Harry. You remember Harry from our lecture, don't you, Niall?”, Louis starts before either one of his friends has the chance to embarrass him.

“Ah, yeah, of course. I was wondering why you looked so familiar”, Niall directs at Harry, but he still has that god-awful smirk on his face when he glances at Louis, as if to say 'I know a little bit more about him than that and you know it'.

“Hm, nice to meet you Harry”, Zayn says, and Louis prays that he won't reveal anything of the previous day's conversation. It's not that he doesn't trust Zayn, it's just that the boy can be a bit absent-minded sometimes, which is precisely the reason why Louis wanted to vent to Niall in the first place. On second thought, maybe bringing Harry over to sit with them wasn't the best idea. But it's not like Louis could just leave Harry there all by himself, or think clearly with that bloody model-looking face staring up at him.

Gradually, the group goes back to work, Zayn excusing himself to continue working on his painting- he wants to finish off the first layer today and then work back into it with his palette knives to get some texture in it back at the studio since oil paint takes so long to dry, or something. Louis doesn't really quite understand the whole artistic process. Niall picks up his book again, looking up over the cover at Louis and Harry every couple of minutes. He's trying to be subtle at his spying but is failing miserably, and Louis doubts he's taking much of the reading in with the constant back-and-forth of his eyes. 

Louis, too, tries to go back to reading the play. He skims over the words, but realises that he's not paying attention when he reads the same sentence for the seventh time and still doesn't know what it's meant to be saying. He feels like he should be making the most of a Liam-free Harry, smoothing over the awkwardness of having heard both of their combined sex-noises, that kind of thing. On the other hand, Louis doesn't want to be annoying or overstep any boundaries and it looks like Harry's enjoying his book too much to talk. Still, when he finds himself stuck on the same page of the play for ten whole minutes yet again, he puts the copy down with a sigh and officially gives up.

“Harry”, he says. 'Don't be an annoying twat', his subconscious pipes up.

“Hey, Harry”, he repeats when Harry doesn't hear him over his music. The voice in his subconscious sighs, also giving up. Louis ignores the chuckle coming from Niall's direction, refusing to look his way.

“Hm?”, Harry makes a startled noise, like a cat that's just been woken up.

Louis looks around the blanket for inspiration, his eyes settling on a half-eaten punnet of grapes lying in the centre.

“Grape?”, he says. Before his brain quite catches up to the movement in his arm, he's launched a grape towards Harry's face, mouth half-opened in a response that he doesn't manage to get out before the grape hits the corner of his lips and falls to the floor with a pathetic thud. 

Louis wonders for a second whether the gods will listen to his prayers this time around and let the ground swallow him up whole. There's a horrible moment of silence when Harry stares down at the grape and then straight into Louis' eyes with a puzzled expression on his face, all while Niall turns worryingly pink as he tries to contain his choked laughs. Right when Louis considers just running away and hoping for the best, Harry breaks the silence with a high-pitched giggle and then the moment is gone, all three of them breaking down in peals of laughter, Niall especially unable to contain himself any longer.

“What the hell was that?”, Harry wheezes out in between giggles, flicking the slightly squished grape onto the grass next to him. 

“Hey, you were meant to catch it!”, Louis says indignantly, playing it off as if he wasn't just considering dropping out of uni because of a grape gone astray. 

“Yeah, if you'd given me some warning, maybe!”, Harry says. He reaches over to the grape bowl and seizes a handful, throwing them at Louis' face in quick succession. Louis actually manages to catch one on the tip of his tongue, while the others roll away on the blanket, with a particularly deftly thrown one catching Niall on the ear. 

“See, it's not so easy when it's out of the blue like this, is it?”, Harry laughs.

“I still managed to get one, that's better than you”, Louis sticks his tongue out once he swallows the grape.

“Well, I guess you're going to have to teach me your ways”, Harry says, and Louis swears he can hear an edge his tone that goes beyond the normal friendliness that he'd usually expect. 

“Or you're just going to have to accept the fact that I'm better than you at something”, Louis shrugs his shoulders, but his inside screams 'Yes!!I'll teach you anything!!Just give me a time and a place and I'm there!!”. If anyone could hear his thoughts, he'd be in a whole lot of trouble.

Louis' about to suggest that he could take Harry on a night out and teach him how to swallow a different kind of grape (not his smoothest line, admittedly, but he reckons if he says it in a mock-sarcastic tone and use his own puppy-dog eyes it should just about work), when Harry's phone rings. Louis looks down instinctively and almost gags when he sees 'Liam' on the caller ID. He's not sure what's worse- the fact that it's Liam, or the eggplant and peach emojis next to his contact.

Harry jumps slightly at the noise, but Louis doesn't miss the way his face lights up when he notices who's calling. 

“Liam, hey, where are you?”, he says. His face falls a bit as he listens to whatever Liam is saying down the phone. 

“Oh, no, it's alright, don't worry about it. At least you're up now, I guess”, he says, nods at a few more things, then hangs up the phone. 

“Liam says he overslept, but told me to meet him in the library now, so I'll be off”, he turns to Louis as he packs his book away. “Thanks for the, um, grapes”, he smiles.

“Sounds like a bit of a shitty excuse, to be honest”, Louis says once Harry has stood up.

“What do you mean?”

“He overslept? Please, he's over an hour late, and your phone calls would've woken him up. Sounds like he just didn't feel like turning up”, Louis says, and only realises how harsh it sounds once the words are already out of his mouth.

“So what you're saying is he didn't feel like seeing me?”, Harry sounds hurt.

“No, that's not what I was saying, I just-”

“You know, I already apologised for the whole sex thing, and I get that you don't like Liam, but could you do that without making me feel like a piece of shit?”

“Harry, I really didn't mean it like that, I'm-”

“No, it's fine, if I was Liam I wouldn't turn up to see me either. Thanks for the reminder, Louis”, Harry says, and speeds away from the group, shoulders slumped in his usual awful posture but with an added hint of dejection. Louis watches him walk away, tempted to run after him but not exactly willing to inevitably shove his foot in his mouth once again.  
“Well, aren't you a charmer”, Niall breaks the stunned silence, all pretence of actually reading his book long gone. 

“That was..interesting”, says Zayn, partaking in Louis' misery clearly more important to him than finishing off his masterpiece. 

Louis doesn't answer at first, still staring at the place that Harry was sitting in just moments ago in shock. He shakes his head to clear it, still not exactly sure how he managed to go from throwing grapes at a cute boy's mouth to making him storm off in the space of three minutes. 

“I just- I don't know why I said that. I honestly didn't mean for it to sound so bad, but-”

“Hey, hey. Even the best of us fuck up sometimes, don't worry about it”, Zayn comes over, placing one arm over Louis and rubbing his back in a circular pattern. Niall slides over on the blanket too, draping himself over Louis' other side and resting his head on his shoulder. 

“You know, when me and Gigi first met, she wasn't too fond of me either. I'd accidentally stolen her drink, and she-”

Niall pinches Zayn's exposed arm, and he yelps as he jumps away the source of pain.

“The hell was that for?”

“Louis doesn't some long-winded story about you and your darling Gigi and how everything will surely work out in the end because it did for you two”, Niall says. “What Louis needs right now is to go get absolutely smashed and forget about Harry, preferably with the help of a much cuter, much more available lad, am I right?, he directs at Louis, who nods feebly.

“I mean, I've got so much work to do, and I can't exactly do that hungover, but..”, he trails off, second-guessing himself, but Niall sits up and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Look, Lou, I get that you've got a lot on your plate right now, but the priority here is finding you someone you can shag all your sorrows away with”, he says while staring into Louis' eyes, deadly serious. 

“You've got a point, but I'm still-”

Niall places a finger gently against Louis' mouth, shutting him up.

“Tell me, when's the last time you got laid?”

“Niall!”

“I mean, Zayn over here clearly isn't having issues, and not to brag but if you think I'm struggling then the two lovely lads I basically spent the whole of last weekend with could tell you otherwise..”

“Fine. Fine! I'll go out with you. Fine”, Louis says before Niall can get into the intimate details of his sex life, or before Zayn joins in with another monologue about the definite love of his life. 

“That's what I thought”, Niall says, and Louis hates the smug look on his face and the fact that he actually has a point. 

“Plus, if you do enough of the work now, you might not even have to come home at all tomorrow”, Niall winks and Louis rolls his eyes, but eventually settles back down amongst his various notebooks and papers.

The three of them make good progress that day, the weather taking pity on them and staying sunny until about five in the afternoon, with no sight or threat of rain or another storm whatsoever. Louis speeds through his reading, leaving a couple of chapters that he still needs to make notes on for the Monday before the lecture so that he can watch the sunset. The sky blooms orange and pink, interrupted by little wisps of feathery white clouds, and the sun leaves behind a trail of fire as it sinks below the horizon. 

“Guess that's our cue to go, then”, Louis says as the sun finally disappears, immortalised only in the reddish hues of Zayn's finally complete painting. When they've all packed up their things, Zayn's easel tucked under one arm and still-wet painting clutched carefully in the other, they make their way over to the dorm buildings. 

“We'll be over at seven to pick you up”, Niall shouts as him and Zayn round a corner while Louis continues straight ahead. “And don't you dare cancel!”

Louis waves them goodbye- not like he ever would cancel, Niall wouldn't let him hear the end of it- and finally lets himself back in to his building. Considering how badly the first half of the day started off, it's fair to say that his spirits have been lifted enough for him to actually enjoy the night. 

Louis feels a bit nervous as he walks past Liam's door, sure that it will open to Harry or, even worse, Liam himself telling Louis to back off or something, but the place appears to be silent and Louis breathes out in relief as he makes it into the safety of his own room. 

He's still got about two hours before Niall comes to drag him off, and decides that he's earned a nap with all that he's been through today and the hard work that he's done. He wakes up just before his alarm rings, sweaty and disorientated after dreaming of a certain long-haired brunette punching him in the face. It's 6:50pm, not enough time for a shower, so Louis splashes his face and underarms with some cold water instead, telling himself to get a bloody grip. He spends the other nine minutes dishevelling his hair in the bathroom mirror, and squeezes himself into tight black jeans and a tank top at the last minute. He's only just doing up the button on his trousers when the door unlocks, and Niall bounds into the room like an overly excited puppy, dragging an equally excited, but slightly spacey looking Zayn behind him. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”, Louis says exasperatedly, shoving his phone in his back pocket and untangling a fur-lined denim jacket from around his bedpost. 

“Shut up and drink”, Niall retorts, waving a dubiously coloured two litre bottle of Sainsbury's-own vodka in front of Louis' face. 

“Niall, what are we, fifteen again?” Louis asks, but takes a swig anyway, wincing as the liquid burns down the back of his throat. “Jesus, what the hell did you mix this with?”

“You don't want to know”, Zayn replies before snatching the bottle from Louis, chugging nearly a quarter of it, and cradling it to his chest the whole way to the club. 

“Drinks prices are higher than ever, Louis. Cheap pre-drinks are the only way you can survive nowadays”, Niall says solemnly. 

Louis shivers in the darkness, sock-less feet already freezing up. He eyes Zayn's long black coat, wondering if there's any way that he could steal it away. 

“Yeah, but there's a difference between cheap drinks and ones that taste like rat poison”, he retorts.

“So does that mean you won't mind if I finish off the whole bottle?”, Zayn asks, sounding giddily happy.

“You'd probably die, Zayn”, Louis says, and then more quietly, “Give it here”.

“Shut up, I'm basically saving his life”, he says as Niall chuckles. 

“Knew you wouldn't be able to resist, Tommo”.

The heat of the alcohol warms Louis up slightly, but he's still thankful when they make it into the club, the heat of all the cramped, crowded bodies a far more satisfying, perhaps even more sanitary source of warmth. 

“I'm gonna get something actually decent to drink”, Louis leans in towards Niall, who nods and asks for “the prettiest cocktail the place offers”. Zayn's already managed to find a small table over in the corner, no doubt texting Gigi from the way the phone screen illuminates the goofy grin on his face. Taking that phone away from him would be a battle, so Louis lets him stay in his happy bubble a little while longer before dragging him up to dance.

Getting over to the bar is a battle in itself, Louis' small frame pushed and shoved around on the dancefloor. Someone reaches out to grope his bum through his jeans and Louis smacks the offending hand away, shouting a decided 'fuck off' through the crowd, but it's barely audible over the pounding of the music. 

“Fucking twat”, he mutters to himself as he finally makes it across, the bar an oasis of alcohol in a desert filled with perverts and creeps. It's a Saturday night, so of course the bar is absolutely full of people, but it's still early on in the night so the bar isn't all that bad. 

Louis leans over the counter, ordering three of something pink and fruity that catches his eye on the menu and will definitely fulfil Niall's wishes. He's tempted to start a tab on Niall's credit card as punishment for the pervy groper, which is absolutely, one hundred percent Niall's fault since it's his fault Louis' in the club in the first place, but at the same time he doesn't quite fancy being suffocated in his sleep. Still, it's almost physically painful having to slide a twenty pound note over the counter only to get coins in return. 

Louis' just realising that he's fucked up and there's no way he can carry three cocktails with just two hands, when he spots a familiar mop of brown hair from the corner of his eye. His heart leaps at the same time as his stomach when he sees how dejected Harry looks, twisting the straw round and round his drink with his head bowed. Louis knows that he could just walk away, abandon the third drink and run for his life because he's pretty sure he's the last person that Harry wants to see, but something about Harry's expression roots him to the spot. Before he realises what he's actually doing, Louis' standing in front of Harry and tapping him on the shoulder. His head snaps up, eyes hopeful, but his expression settles again and clouds over when he takes in Louis' face. 

“Oh. It's you”, Louis can barely hear him over the noise, but the disappointment is clearly etched on Harry's face. 

“Yeah, me”, Louis doesn't know what his battle plan should be. “Listen, about earlier, I honestly didn't mean to imply anything about you being a piece of shit, in fact, you're the complete opposite of that, and I'm so sorry I hurt your feelings because I think you're great, too great really, I'm the piece of shit here..”, Louis rambles his apology, wincing inwardly at every word that comes out of his mouth but he really can't stop.

“Louis, look, it's fine. I overreacted, what you said wasn't bad at all and I'm the one who owes you an apology, to be honest”, Harry interrupts with a half-shouted reply. 

“What? Harry, don't apologise to me, I'm the twat here, I'm the one that should be sorry!”

“Let's not turn this into a competition, alright?”, Harry says, and Louis' heart beats faster at his growing smile. “We're good, okay?”

Louis shakes Harry's outstretched hand, finding himself unwilling to let go for the second time in the past twenty four hours. 

“We're good”, he reassures. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh”, Harry flushes. “I was, um, supposed to meet Liam here but he just texted me that he can't make it, so.”, Harry's face falls. “Maybe I was hoping that he'd still meet me here, somehow.”

“Well, personally, I don't get what kind of guy would be crazy enough to cancel when he's got you waiting for him”, Louis says, sitting down onto the bar stool next to Harry. 

“Shut up. You don't mean that”, Harry says, flushing deeper. 

“Harry, you're the cutest guy in this place, why wouldn't I mean it? Hell, you're probably the cutest guy at uni”, once again, Louis says something that ends up sounding completely different from what he intended. He's not trying to hit on Harry, he really isn't, or maybe just subconsciously, but something about only ever seeing Harry all alone in crowded places makes him want to take a big blanket, wrap him in it, and sign him lullabies till he falls asleep.

“You know I'm still- I'm still technically dating Liam, right?”

“Of course! I wasn't trying to- I'm not-”

“Louis, calm down. We're good, alright? We're still good”, Harry says, but the blush has taken up permanent residence on his cheeks. Louis tries to not think about what that might mean.

“God, I'm not really good with my words today, am I?”

“We've all got our off days”, Harry smiles. 

“Can I get you anything?”, Louis asks, and then hastily adds, “As a final apology, nothing more than that, obviously. You know what, take this, actually, looks like you like them well enough”, Louis slides over one of his drinks, and then reaches over to fiddle with the umbrella, his hand straying to play with a solitary curl of its own accord.

“Louis”, Harry starts, but he doesn't back away. Time stops still for a moment, Harry leaning in to Louis' touch almost imperceptibly, but then the song changes to something even more upbeat and electronic and the spell is broken. Louis drops his hand like he's been burned.  
“Right. Sorry. Just friends, see?”, he coughs. “I hate seeing you all alone though, you're always welcome to come join me and the boys?”

His words hang in the air, but Harry finally shakes his head.

“No, it's okay, I don't want to impose. I think I'm going to go home soon, anyway. No point in staying”.

Louis doesn't press the question.

The night drags on, him and Niall getting drunker and drunker off ridiculously expensive drinks- Louis thanks God for his maintenance loan- and grinding up against each other on the dance floor, while Zayn remains in the corner on his phone, leaving only to break the two of them apart when their dancing gets a little too explicit. There's a whole load of guys practically queuing up to dance with Louis, because why wouldn't there be. Yet somehow, pretending to slap Niall's arse in front of a load of strangers seems preferable to anything even the slightest bit non-platonic. When he looks over at Harry's seat sometime around midnight, the pang in his stomach confirms that he's gone. 

Zayn finally convinces them to leave a couple of hours later, a bit too tipsy to be their chaperone but the only one sober enough to assume the role at the same time. Niall and Louis drape themselves on either side of him, Niall half-singing some kind of old Irish ballad and Louis joining in despite not knowing a scrap of the language. They drop him off outside his dorm building. Zayn opens the front door for Louis and then makes sure he still knows how to use a key- he doesn't want to risk the safety hazards of three guys climbing up three flights of stairs together- and then Louis' left alone. He can still hear Niall's song reverberating around the campus as he reaches his hallway, muffled slightly by what's most likely Zayn's hand across his mouth in a useless effort to shut him up. 

Louis grips on to the side of the wall for support. He shuffles along the hallway, making good progress towards his room but then trips over some unknown mass on the floor right outside his door and lands straight on his bum.

“What the fuck?”, he winces and reaches out to push himself back up, expecting to find carpet but instead his palm connects with something warm, moving, and definitely not floor-like. 

“Louis, you made it!”, the moving thing even speaks, and Louis doesn't know what he was expecting but a giggling, flushed Harry was the last thing on the list. 

“Harry, what are you doing here?”, Louis reaches out to poke at Harry's dimple, jut to make sure that he's actually there and not some sort of hallucination or apparition his brain's conjured up to mock him. 

“Well, I forgot my keys, and then I went to Liam's but Liam isn't at home, so I decided I'd wait here for you because I like you!”, Harry leans right across and plops his head down onto Louis' lap, his usual drawl even slower than usual and far more slurred. 

“Harry, I like you too, but we really should get you home. Come on, up”, Louis says, surprisingly calm considering how quickly his heart is hammering. He wonders if Harry can feel it from his position, and thanks God that Harry's too drunk to remember it if that's the case.

“Up, up”, he repeats when Harry makes no move to stand. The notion of looking after someone far drunker than him is sobering enough. He manages to get his arms round Harry's middle and drag him up to a standing position, stumbling with the combined pressure of the alcohol in his bloodstream and Harry's weight. The two of them stand there, practically embracing, Harry doing enough swaying for the both of them.

“Come on, we need to get you home, where do you live?”

“Mhhmm” 

“Harry, come on, where? Do? You? Live?”, Louis says again.

“Dunno. I don't live”, comes Harry's reply.

“Well, I can't leave you in the hallway, can I?”

“Please don't”, Harry nuzzles his head against Louis' shoulder. Louis is mildly annoyed that his head is too fuzzy to appreciate the citrus smell that comes with the nuzzle. 

“You're going to have to sleep in my room, then”, Louis says and drags the still-attached Harry through the doorway. 

His place is a mess, as usual, but it's not like he planned on anything even remotely close to this happening so he lets himself off, telling himself that he'll tidy at the nearest possible opportunity (he never will). 

“You're going to have to sleep on the floor, I'll give you a blanket but I'm not giving up my bed no matter how cute you are”, Louis says.

When no reply comes from Harry, he shakes the taller man gently. 

“Harry. Floor. Go sleep”, he tries again, only to have Harry's arms tighten around him.

“Noooo”, Harry whines. 

“I told you, you're not getting my bed, now bugger off”

“Wanna cuddle”, Harry says, and Louis' sure that he's definitely hallucinating now. 

“You what?”

“Cuddle. 'M not letting go”, Harry says again.

Louis rolls his eyes but he's scared that Harry will fall asleep against him and crush him to death. He steers the two of them towards his bed, uncomfortably sweaty still in his jeans and jacket but it's not like he can remove them with Harry's unrelenting death grip on his arm. Louis manoeuvres Harry so that he falls to the side of Louis rather than straight on top of him when he all but pushes him down onto the bed. 

“I said cuddle”, Harry mumbles sleepily.

“God, what are you, five?”, Louis says, but he obliges. He manages to disentangle himself from Harry, wrapping his arms around his middle instead like the big spoon that he was born to be, plastered against Harry's back but not even minding the sweatiness at this point. The citrus smell and the rise and fall of Harry's chest are all he can focus on.

“Just as friends, okay?”, Louis mutters, but Harry's already fast asleep, all soft snores and snuffles.

“Just as friends”, says Louis again, this time to himself, before he drifts off to images of a curly headed boy calling his name.

 

Louis is awoken to the sound of a ringtone, which feels more like a knife to his skull than anything else. His head is fuzzy and his mouth is dry, and he doesn't understand why he's awake after getting what feels like twenty minutes of sleep, not his usual seven hours. He gropes around blindly for his phone, finally pulling it out from his jeans pocket when he can't find it in its usual place beneath his pillow. His hungover mind doesn't consider why he's still wearing his ridiculously tight jeans rather than pyjama bottoms to bed like a normal person, and it also fails to comprehend why the ringing noise just won't stop even after he's flicked his iPhone's switch to 'silent'. It's only then that he realises his other arm is trapped underneath a warm mass of denim, sheer shirt, and long, curly hair, still asleep despite the din. Louis' memories from the previous night come flooding back, and even though he's not quite sure how to react to a sleeping Harry, albeit fully-clothed, he's glad that his actions weren't the most embarrassing of the night. 

“Harry, is that your bloody phone?”, Louis shakes the guy as best as he can with one arm out of action, but all he does is grunt vaguely in reply.

“Harry. Harry!”

“Ugh, Liam, leave me alone”, Harry manages, and Louis feels his stomach drop at the sound of Liam's name. Of course Harry doesn't remember where he went last night, of course he thinks he's with Liam and not Louis, because why wouldn't he? Louis shakes him again, more vigorously this time. 

“Harry, for fuck's sake”, Louis says again, ignoring the sinking feeling.

“Mhh, fine, shut up”, Harry says, and reaches for his phone, only to stop short when he sees the caller ID. 

“Liam, why the fuck are you calling me?”, he says, and turns around to face a very un-Liam-like Louis staring back at him. 

“Because..I'm not Liam?”

“Fuck!”, Harry shoots straight up, jumping off the bed onto unsteady feet and sways around like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. 

Louis props himself up onto one elbow, and stares at Harry some more. He can fully appreciate Harry's see-through black shirt, giving Louis glimpses of what looks like a huge butterfly tattoo on his stomach and more littering his whole chest that he didn't know existed. His eyes trace the fern leaves leading across Harry's v-lines, taking advantage of the fact that Harry looks much too horrified at his location to even notice.

“God, Louis, we didn't, uh-do anything last night, did we?”, Harry asks like he's too scared to hear the answer to the question. 

“You really don't remember anything fro last night, do you?”

“Could you just answer the question?”

“I don't know, could you answer your bloody phone, maybe?”, Louis shoots back. He's not sure where his sudden irritation has come from, but he's pretty sure that it's something to do with Liam, of all people, disturbing his morning peace. 

Harry shoots him an exasperated look, but does as Louis says, taking a deep breath before he takes Liam's call.

“Hey babe, what's up?”, Harry tries to sound casual, but starts pacing around Louis' room, fiddling with the ends of his hair. Louis would be a liar if he said he doesn't check out Harry's arse at least once or twice. 

“Hey, no, don't worry about it babe, it's alright”, Louis can hear Liam's tinny voice down the line, probably making up some shitty excuse for standing up Harry for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days.

“We're still on for today, though, right?”, Harry asks, and by the way his face falls a few seconds later, Louis can tell that the response isn't exactly what Harry had in mind. 

“Oh. Um, okay, give me a call in a few days then, alright? Have a nice-”, Harry pulls the phone away from his ear.

“He hung up on me. He just- hung up”, he turns to Louis, who's now sitting up, half sorry for Harry and half completely pissed off at Liam. 

“Come on. Sit”, Louis sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and patting the duvet next to him. Harry walks over and sinks down, still staring at his phone in disbelief. 

“Look, before you start panicking, nothing happened between us last night. You turned up on my doorstep completely off your face, wouldn't tell me where you live so I couldn't take you home, and then you wouldn't go to sleep unless we cuddled. That's it, okay?”, Louis says.

Harry drops his face into his hands and makes a pained sound.

“Oh my god, I'm the worst”, he groans, sound muffled by his fingers.

“Hey, it's alright”, Louis puts an arm round Harry, who, to Louis' surprise, leans into the embrace. 

“Look, let me take you out for breakfast”, Louis says, hoping he's not pushing his luck.

Harry re-emerges from his hands, peeking out at Louis with pink cheeks and raised eyebrows. 

“Why would you want to do that? I'm a complete fuck-up”, he says before sinking back down again.

“Take it as a thank-you for not puking on my floor. Besides, I think a nice fry-up could do us both good, don't you think?”

“Okay, you've got a point there”, Harry says, wincing as he sits back up too quickly. Then, looking a bit sheepish, he asks, “Would it be weird if I asked to use your shower?”

Louis thinks his heart might just about burst from endearment. He agrees, obviously, even giving up his best towel for Harry to use and the most expensive shampoo and conditioner he owns (they probably don't hold a candle to the ones Harry has at home and Louis would absolutely run out to the nearest shop and buy Harry shampoo made of fourteen-carat gold if he could, but he doesn't want to seem too over-eager just yet). Then, he hops into the shower himself, cleaning up in record time while Harry tries to work the spare travel-sized hair dryer Louis has lying around for emergencies. 

They make their way slowly over to a cute little cafe that Louis stumbled across once on a drunken night out and told himself he'd go back to it when it was open but never quite got the chance. Louis fills Harry in on last night's events as they walk, all the grisly, embarrassing drunken details included. When they finally get to the Palm Leaf Cafe, as it's called, hidden down an alley fifteen minutes away from campus, they immediately order two full English breakfasts and the largest mugs of coffee that the place has to offer. It's still early in the morning and the cafe has only just been opened, so they manage to get a big table right by the window, watching the handful of people milling outside on the street. A few of them come inside to get their morning coffee-to-go before the waitress brings their food over. Louis smiles gratefully at the piping hot plate she sets down in front of him.

They eat in comfortable silence, Louis stealing a couple mushrooms off Harry's plate when he's not looking, only to have a tomato disappear off his own plate moments later despite his protests. Bickering with Harry feels oddly like coming home, and Louis' certain that he's not the only one who feels so at ease when he sees the ever-growing dimple on Harry's cheek. He wonders how it's possible for him to feel so sickeningly domestic when they've known each other for barely a week, but, well, he does. Only the text from Liam on Harry's phone- those contact emojis are forever embedded in Louis' mind- reminds Louis that they're nothing more than friends no matter how at home he feels when he looks into Harry's eyes. 

“He wants to meet up in ten minutes”, Harry says through a mouthful of fried potatoes. 

“Oh, all of a sudden like that?”, Louis tries to sound casual, but he can hear his own voice waver with uncertainty. “That's- good for you, I guess”

“Yeah, I should, um , probably go”, Harry says, and Louis has to keep repeating the mantra of 'just friends, just friends, just friends' in his mind so that the hurt doesn't show on his face.

“Let me pay for the food though, alright? It's the least I can do”, Harry says before he gulps down the rest of his latte, placing a twenty pound note on the table before Louis can protest. 

“Louis, I'm really sorry I'm leaving you here, but Liam's my-”

Louis cuts him off, not because he doesn't want to listen to Harry, but because he doesn't think he can bare hearing the word 'boyfriend' and 'Liam' in the same sentence. 

“I get it, Harry. Just- remember that you deserve so much better, okay? Please, just.”, Louis expects Harry to have a go at him for talking like that about Liam, and he wouldn't blame him, if he's being honest. But Harry just smiles down, looking almost sad. He takes a breath like he wants to say something, but then shakes his head almost imperceptibly, grabbing his phone and walking towards the door.

“See you soon, okay?”

Louis stares after Harry until he rounds the corner and disappears, trying to not feel sorry for himself but doing exactly that. He goes up to the counter, paying the bill with Harry's money and throwing the rest of the change into the tip jar. 

“Actually, could I get another cappuccino, please?”, Louis asks, fishing out some more money from his pocket. 

“Got a bit of guy trouble, huh?”, the waitress asks, face sympathetic as she slides over the cup a few minutes later.

“Yeah, something like that”, Louis says with a grimace before he sits back down, the table feeling a lot bigger without Harry on the other side. 

come to the palm leaf cafe asap i'm dying

he sends a group text to Niall and Zayn, not exactly up to spending the rest of the morning alone with his thoughts. All he gets in reply is a frown-y face emoji (from Niall), and a can I bring Gigi? (from Zayn), but in half an hour he's surrounded by his two best friends and a very pretty, very tall blonde girl who looks surgically attached to Zayn's arm.

“I don't know what's wrong with me. Why can't I stop thinking about him? He's got a boyfriend, even if he's a shitty boyfriend, he's got one but I just can't stop..”, Louis whines, pressing his forehead against the cold wood of the table. 

“The heart wants what the heart wants”, Gigi says solemnly from across the table, before taking a sip of her frappucino through a bright pink straw.

“You're so smart, babe”, Zayn gushes.

“While that might be true”, Niall starts, “I think what Louis' looking for here is a practical solution, not some philosophical crap”

“Look, just tell him you like him, what's the big deal?”, Zayn says. 

“I mean, it does sound like Liam isn't a very nice guy, so what's the worst thing that could happen?”, Gigi adds. 

“I could die.”

“Okay, there's no need to be so melodramatic, Lou. You've got a crush, it's not the end of the world”, Niall rolls his eyes. 

“If Zayn hadn't told me he likes me, I wouldn't be the happiest I've ever been in my life right now”, Gigi drawls in her American accent. 

“I vote do it”, Zayn says.

To Louis' horror, a chant of 'do it, do it, do it' starts up at the table, all three of them looking far too happy for his liking.

“You guys are the worst”, Louis says, punching Niall on the arm to get him to shut up before they get kicked out of the place for making too much noise. 

“You know we love you, really”, Niall ruffles Louis' hair, who has to pull his hood up in order to escape his fingers. 

They finally leave the cafe, and Louis excuses himself to go back to his room despite Niall's insistent begging to sit with them in a nearby park and drink cheap boxed wine until the sun goes down.

“Niall, I love you, but how the hell are you up for drinking after last night?”, Louis says. 

Niall just shrugs his shoulders and begs some more, but finally lets Louis go when he sees that he's not going to get through to him after all. To tell the truth, Louis would normally ignore his hangover in favour of spending time with friends, but right now, he just wants to go feel sorry for himself and mope for the rest of the day rather than watching Zayn and Gigi climb all over each other as they get drunker and drunker while Niall inevitably eggs them on. Maybe it's better for him to be with his own thoughts at a time like this after all.

He collapses onto his bed, trying to ignore the citrus smell still clinging onto his bedsheets and swipes the strands of brown hair off his pillow, acting like he'd never even noticed them in the first place. He's planning on watching Netflix and eating junk food the entire day and doesn't even realise he's fallen asleep until the insistent knocking on his door wakes him up.

“Niall, if that's you, I swear to God..”, Louis grumbles to himself as he clambers up.

He unlocks the door not to a cheerful Niall, but a slightly frantic-looking Harry pacing up and down outside. Louis' heart skips a beat and jumps right into his throat.

“I broke up with Liam”, Harry says, stopping his pacing before Louis can so much as open his mouth.

“I'm-sorry?”

“We broke up. Well, I'm the one who did the breaking up. You were right, I deserve better”, Harry says again, and Louis can't quite decipher the expression on his face. 

“That's- Harry, I don't know what to say, I'm-”

“Then don't say anything.”

Louis barely has time to catch his breath before Harry strides over and slots his mouth over Louis', cutting off anything he might have had to say and essentially shutting off his brain. Harry's lips are feathery soft on his, barely pressing down, sugary sweet and impossibly gentle, and all Louis can think is 'more, more, more'. Harry pulls apart, much too soon, so Louis drapes his hands around his neck and pulls him back down towards his face.

“I thought you'd never do that”, he murmurs against Harry's lips, already breathless.

“I thought I never would, either”, Harry whispers back, before closing the almost non-existent distance between the two of them, kisses stronger and more insistent this time. 

Louis pulls the two of them through his doorway, slamming the door shut behind him as Harry grips his legs and hitches them up to his waist so that Louis is clutching onto him, completely at the mercy of Harry's intoxicating kisses. Harry eases Louis gently down onto the bed, kissing down the base of his neck and around his throat. Louis' hands flit from around Harry's neck to tangle in his hair. Then, he brings them down to squeeze Harry's arse, which draws a giggle from the taller guy and Louis' heart swells with endearment. Soft moans escape from Louis' parted lips before Harry shifts his attention back to them, pressing down like it's the only thing that's ever going to matter. They stay like that for what feels like hours, alternating between languid kisses and hungry, dirty ones where Louis nips at Harry's soft pink lips and Harry leans down to bite a collar of bruises around Louis' throat, watching them spread like ink blots across his skin. 

They come to a natural stop, slowing down until Harry plants one final kiss on the tip of Louis' nose. He shifts down the bed to lean his head against Louis' chest, right above Louis' fluttering heart. This time, Louis is glad that Harry can hear it beat. They fall asleep to the sound of each other's shuddering breaths, limbs intertwined and Louis knows it's a cliché but if he had one wish, he'd chose to stay in Harry's arms forever.

 

The relationship comes easily to them- Louis introduces Harry to Niall and Zayn properly, and most importantly as his boyfriend this time. From that moment on, the four of them, along with Gigi, become inseparable. Louis finds that he doesn't quite mind Zayn and Gigi's sickening puppy-dog eyes at each other so much now that he's on the other side of the relationship spectrum. They even make their peace with Liam over time, finding that while he's not exactly the best boyfriend, he's a great friend and their little group meets once a week at least and goes out together almost every single weekend. The first 'I love you' comes easily to them, too. It happens when they're watching TV in Louis' room, a month into their relationship, with Harry's head leaned in its usual position above Louis' heart. 

“I love you, you know”, Harry mutters before falling asleep.

“I love you too, you know”, Louis mutters back, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he's finally home.


End file.
